Shades of Scarlet
by Astra M
Summary: An unexpected reaction to a typical scenario causes Akane to ponder the roots of her volatile feelings. Set post series. [Ranma x Akane]


_Ranma ½ Fanfic - "Shades of Scarlet"  
written November 2001 by Astra M._

* * *

Ranma ½ copyright Rumiko Takahashi/Shogakukan. This is a derivative work based on the Ranma ½ series created purely for entertainment value; no profit is being made from its dissemination.

* * *

__

_Baby sneezes  
Mummy pleases  
Daddy breezes in_

Home.  
  
She quietly dropped her schoolbag on the floor, slowly slid her shoes off, stepped up and trudged softly down the hallway. When she reached the living room she stopped, looking around at the empty room: the shogi board, set up in midgame; the table in the center, fashion magazine laying open; the TV set in the corner, now turned off - hints of life frozen in stasis. It was late afternoon; no one was home - a rare occurrence in this household. Rare enough that no matter how much she insisted that she was fine on her own, she was never entirely comfortable with the unfamiliar emptiness. But this time... maybe she was grateful.  
  
As she stood there in the archway, staring at everything yet nothing, a memory came unbidden.  
  
_...Me? Marry that pervert? Never!...  
  
...Hey, whaddya mean, 'pervert'?..._  
  
She sighed.

_So good on paper  
So romantic  
But so bewildering_

__

Akane turned to face the yard, willing the memory to fade away. She looked out on the koi pond, at the walls glowing yellow in the late day sun, up over the Nerima skyline, tracing the contrail of an airplane winging far above in the sea of blue.  
  
_So clear and high and free from... everything._  
  
She closed her eyes, letting the warm afternoon air caress her, recalling the events of barely an hour ago.  
  
Walking home from school. Ranma at her side. By her side and not on the fence: it had become more of a habit of his as of late, she'd noticed. They had been talking, on some little thing or other that she couldn't even remember now. Suddenly out of blue Shampoo arrived, latching on to Ranma, knocking her over. To say she was surprised was an understatement.  
  
As she watched Shampoo rubbing herself over the struggling Ranma, a familiar feeling coursed through her veins. Of disgust, of jealousy, of annoyance... of hurt. Never ending frustration. Ruined plans. Shattered dreams.  
  
Red, red anger, pounding in her heart.  
  
_Why? Why? Why? WHY?!?_  
  
Before she even realized what she was doing, she was in motion, hands balled into fists, mouth open in a cry of anger, school bag swinging upward in a wild underhand arc to connect...  
  
...with Shampoo's face.

_I know nothing stays the same  
But if you're willing to play the game  
It's coming around again_

It was as if her world froze. The Amazon went flying, the expression on her face one of mute shock rather than pain, even as she collided with the fence. Ranma in mid-turn, staring at Akane, his own expression a near-mirror of Shampoo's. And her own face...  
  
She felt her heart racing, chest heaving as if she'd been in a race, frozen in her attacking stance. Her eyes met with his. Wide-eyed. Uncomprehending.  
  
Then Shampoo exploded. Up on her feet, launching herself straight at Akane, hands already raised for the killing strike, face twisted in an expression of cold rage that made her terrible to see. Akane felt a chill run down her spine as she realized the Amazon girl wasn't holding back. Not this time. She fell backwards, throwing her arms up to helplessly ward off the coming blow - and Ranma was there, grabbing the screaming Amazon and knocking her away from Akane.  
  
She watched, stunned, as Shampoo glared at Ranma, her face a twist of impotent fury and hurt, shrieking some Chinese curse in her broken Japanese. And Ranma was also yelling something at the raging girl as he held onto her thrashing arms. One last shove, and Shampoo broke away, jumping clear to a nearby roof. She gave Akane one backward glance, a look laced with pure hatred, and was gone. As quickly as she had appeared.  
  
And with her departure, Akane found that she could breathe again.  
  
She was shaking; her stomach hurt. She realized that she was clenching her book bag so tightly that her knuckles had gone white. Letting out a pent up sigh, she turned to look at Ranma.  
  
His face was set in a deep frown, his eyes unsmiling, solemn. His orbs held hers for several moments, and Akane found she was inexplicably at a loss for words under that gaze. Then he spoke, in a low voice remarkably free of the obnoxious tone he often addressed her with, frighteningly calm in its seriousness.  
  
"Akane, why do you always have to be so violent?" 

_So don't mind if I fall apart  
There's more room in a broken heart_

Akane turned from gazing out at the backyard.   
  
It hadn't even really been a fight. Ranma's remark held no anger, no true sense of condescension or accusation; it was a statement, simply rendered.  
  
So why did it feel like he had just hit her?  
  
She stared speechlessly at him, as his words sank in. Then she turned without a word and went home. He hadn't followed.  
  
_I should be angry,_ she thought. _I should be in the dojo right now, smashing cinder blocks. Or beating the hell out of a straw dummy. With a pigtail._  
  
_Why did I hit Shampoo?_

_You pay the grocer  
Fix the toaster  
Kiss the host good-bye_

Akane walked into the kitchen. Opening a cupboard, she pulled out a glass, went to the sink and filled it. Lifting it to her lips as she leaned back against the counter, she warily surveyed the kitchen's layout.   
  
Everything so in order - Kasumi's domain. All serenity and sparkling cleanliness glowing softly in the ambient light. Everything in its proper place, even the garbage scraps covered and ready to be thrown out. Turning back around, Akane quietly gulped the water as she stared at the wall.  
  
_Someday this will be mine._  
  
Akane blanched. All hers - or what she would make of it, that is.   
  
_Funny how everyone knows how to cook.   
_  
All of them. With their _signature_ dishes. If it's not okonomiyaki, it's ramen. If it's not ramen, it's French cuisine. Or cookies laced with sleeping potion. Or magicked pot-stickers. Or ten-year special sauce.   
  
All of it... for him. And what could _she_ do?  
  
Boil.  
  
She sat the empty glass in the sink with a thud. 

_Then you break the window  
Burn the souffle  
Scream a lullaby_

Akane stood in the dojo, staring up at the family altar. Before her a cinder block was set up, ready for the cutting blow. She ignored it.  
  
Instead she focused on the sign hanging prominently below the altar, methodically tracing each character of the one word motto.  
  
Iroha. _Warrior_.  
  
Family creed. Way of life. The Art.  
  
How many times had she meditated on that single phrase as she practiced? How many years? Envisioned herself the proud heir of the Tendo Dojo, the capable defender and upholder of her family's honor?  
  
Kneeling down, she placed her hand against the hard surface of the cinder block.  
  
_...Weak girl...  
  
...Violent tomboy...  
  
...Can't even kick!..._  
  
Her hand briefly contracted into a fist. Then slowly, deliberately, she lifted her arm, palm angled out. Just so, as she had been taught. She held it steady over the block, intensely burning eyes boring into the strike point. Envisioning chi focusing, funneling, waiting to be unleashed with devastating effect. Ready...  
  
_Akane, do you always have to be so violent?_  
  
She dropped her hand, stopping just millimeters above the block, letting spread fingers run lightly across the rough surface, caressing it momentarily.  
  
Withdrawing her hand, she stood up and walked back to house. 

_I know nothing stays the same  
But if you're willing to play the game  
It's coming around again_

After showering off, Akane slid into the bath. She leaned back, feeling the warm water enfold her, and closing her eyes, sensed the tension seeping out of her limbs. Reopening her eyes, she bent her knees, lifting one leg across the other, and began gently kicking it up and down, lazily watching the ripples lapping against the sides of the tub.  
  
Water. Never would she have dreamed such an ordinary, everyday necessity could become a daily hazard. One accidental splash, and havoc would reign. How did Ranma put up with it?  
  
Akane frowned. _Why should I care?_ In its own way, that stupid curse caused her as many problems as it did Ranma, with none of the fringe benefits. She snorted ruefully. _Fringe benefits? What the heck am I thinking?_ The last thing she needed or wanted was her own Jusenkyo curse. Make her turn into some dumb animal... or fearsome monster... or...  
  
_...And my body's built better, to boot!..._  
  
She poked a toe out of the water, considering it. Wriggling it back and forth, she inspected its outline. Soon her entire foot was lifted above the surface, then ankle, calf, knee, thigh...  
  
She held her leg taut, stretched out like a ballerina's. Suddenly she let it dip back in and out of the bath water in one swift motion. Holding it steadily aloft, she watched as the beads of water rolled back along its length.  
  
_Water can't change me._  
  
She let it splash back down into the tub. Hitching her arms around the side of the bath, Akane quickly hauled herself up and out. And she stood there, watching the water stream down her in rivulets, pooling harmlessly on the tile floor. 

_So don't mind if I fall apart  
There's more room in a broken heart_

She walked out of the bathroom, wrapped in her bath towel, and began the trek up the staircase to her room. She had barely taken a few steps from the landing when she inexplicably detoured, errant feet finally pausing before a door.  
  
The house was now awash in red of the setting sun, giving Akane a surrealistic feeling as she laid her hand on the doorknob. Shrugging, she pushed the door open and stepped into the darkened room.  
  
And stood within a memory. 

* * *

She remembered now how quiet that day seemed.   
  
_Then_ she hadn't really noticed. She had too many other things on her mind. For one thing, she had finally learned to tie her own shoelaces, even though Kasumi would still use her finger to guide the knot. She could now write the letters of her name correctly. How she could run faster than anyone else in her class, girl or boy. And she had learned a new word that she had never heard used before.  
  
And now, _she_ was finally home again. Akane had not seen her for weeks. There were so many things to tell her.  
  
Akane knew just what she wanted to do. Running home after school, hardly listening to Nabiki yelling from the main gate, she made it in record time that day, tearing into the house and almost forgetting to remove her shoes in her excitement. Hastily kicking them off, she dropped her bag and went charging through the house. But everywhere Akane went - kitchen - dining room - bathroom - backyard - _she_ was not in any of the usual places.   
  
Akane could only think of one other place she would be, so she ran back through the house and up the stairs, stopping outside the master bedroom. As she pushed open the door, she thought of how she might surprise her. First, she would go flying across the room, jump onto the bed as she had so many times before, throw her arms around her neck, and then -  
  
Watch how still her mother lay in the bed.  
  
Akane wondered if something was wrong.  
  
She stood in the doorway of the darkened bedroom, suddenly unsure of what to do. Her mother didn't usually take naps in the middle of the afternoon. She imagined vividly how upset her father would probably be if he found out that she had disturbed her. Just last night he had told them all that they shouldn't bother their mother when she came home today. Though Akane hadn't been sure what he meant by that.  
  
She thought she knew now. She was already starting to back out quietly when her mother turned her head towards the door. Seeing Akane fidgeting there, she smiled, and called out softly. "Come here, sweetheart."  
  
So instead of bounding, she found herself crawling into the bed hesitantly. She felt her mother's arms wrap around her, and she snuggled deeply into the comforting warmth of her embrace. They lay that way in silence as Akane listened to her mother's labored breathing, feeling the heart beating out an arrhythmic time against her own. Then after a few minutes her mother spoke:  
  
"Well, Akane-chan, you're so quiet today. Haven't you been a busy girl while I was away?"  
  
And suddenly Akane could speak again, as all the stories she had been saving up came pouring out in a big gush, in no particular order. She spoke non-stop for some time, excited snippets of secret tales and triumphs, until she heard her mother laughing gently.  
  
"Well, I'm happy to see that you've been learning so many new things! And Kasumi has been teaching you to get dressed all by yourself... good girl, I knew she would. It looks like you've all managed very well for yourselves while I was away." Akane heard her mother sigh. "So many things I've missed..."  
  
She fell quiet, silence stretching for several moments, causing Akane to peer up curiously at her. Her face was turned to the side, fathomless eyes staring off across the room towards something Akane couldn't see. Twisting her head to see better, Akane's movement brought her attention back to her daughter's face. "So..." she began in a teasing voice, as she began to caress her daughter's head. "Do you have anything to ask _me?"  
_  
Perhaps it was something in her mother's cajoling tone, for almost immediately a question sprang into Akane's mind, albeit something she hadn't planned on asking about. To her surprise, it was no sooner formed than she was blurting it out.  
  
"Mama..." Akane shifted slightly to look up at her mother's face. "What's a 'tomboy'?"  
  
She felt her mother stop stroking her hair as dark eyes examined her. "When did you hear that?"  
  
Akane squirmed, looking away. She really hadn't meant to talk about this. She was sure she would get into trouble.   
  
"From a boy at school today."  
  
"Oh? Do you remember why he said it?"  
  
"He said... he said that..." Akane's voice fell away into an unintelligible murmur.  
  
The stroking began again. "Go on, Akane-chan. Tell me what happened."  
  
Reluctantly, she continued. "We were running outside today. Our teacher said we had to, all the boys and girls together. He said it was a race, and we had to go as fast as we could so he could test us. So I ran as hard as I could and..." In spite of herself, Akane felt a small thrill run down her spine as she said it, "I _won._ I beat everyone in my class!"  
  
The gentle hands never ceased. "And that was when the boy said that to you?"  
  
"No. He..." Akane felt her happiness quickly melt away, replaced by a powerful gnawing in her stomach. Unknowingly she balled her hands into fists as she recalled the incident. "He said that I was just a girl and that I _cheated_. So I..." She took a steadying breath before braving on, "I _pushed_ him. He got mad and started crying and then he called me that."  
  
Akane fell silent, brows furrowed in troubled misery. She hadn't meant to make him cry. She just wanted him to shut up. She felt her mother's hand pause on the top of her head, and she cringed. Now her mother was upset with her. She recalled the boy's red face, and felt a sympathetic prickling sensation building up behind her eyes.  
  
"Akane-chan, look at me. I have something I want to tell you."  
  
"Yes, mama?" she asked timidly, reluctantly tilting her head upward.  
  
Her mother was looking down at her, the expression in the large brown eyes tinged with a solemn sternness. "You said that you learned how to spell your name today. But did your teacher also tell you what your name meant?"  
  
Akane lowered her face again. "N-no..." She felt her mother reach over to lift her chin up again.  
  
To her immense surprise, she was smiling. "It means _red_. Did you ever learn where that came from?"  
  
Taken aback, Akane replied with the first thing that came to mind. "A crayon?"  
  
"Erm... not exactly." Her mother paused, forehead crinkled thoughtfully. "Let me explain it another way. A name is a special thing. It should say something about the kind of person you are. On the day you were born, your father and I decided to give you that name. Can you guess why?"  
  
"Nabiki said that I was red all over."  
  
Her mother half-sighed, half-chuckled. "That, too. But that's _not_ why you were named Akane. We - _I_ - gave you that name because red is the color of _passion_. Do you know what that means, sweetheart?"  
  
Akane shook her head.  
  
"'Passion' is what we call it when you feel something very deeply, very strongly inside - something you feel in your _heart_. And when you feel something this much, you have to act on it. Do you see what I mean?"  
  
She shook her head again.  
  
"Well, let's try it this way... Do you see this?"  
  
She reached over and picked up a card off the nightstand, flipping it over to display the cover: a single heart, haphazardly scrawled in crayon by a childish hand. Akane recognized it as one she had worked on several weeks ago, just before her mother had gone away.  
  
"People use hearts because that's where we feel things. And, even though you can't see it, our hearts are red. So we use the color red to describe feelings - _strong_ feelings. Tell me, do you remember what were you feeling when you made this for me?"  
  
Akane grinned, remembering her excitement. "I was happy."  
  
Her mother nodded, smiling. "Yes. And I was happy, too, when I got it. We call that happy feeling _love_, as you already know." Putting the card back, she then fixed her daughter with a stern look. "But there's more to it than that. When you pushed that boy, Akane-chan, how did you feel?"  
  
Akane immediately stopped grinning. "Mad."  
  
"How mad?"  
  
"...Very mad." It was barely a whisper.  
  
"Yes, very mad. Very _angry_... So angry that you felt it deep inside, didn't you?"  
  
Akane nodded.   
  
"Have you ever heard someone say, 'angry enough to see red'?"  
  
She nodded again.  
  
"Well, you feel anger in your heart, too, just like you feel love. And so now you see why red - _passion_ - is the color of both love and hate."  
  
Akane gazed at her mother in surprise. She had never given a thought to her name before now. She wasn't sure if she really understood what her mother was getting at. But she wasn't finished.  
  
"Passion, Akane-chan, is only the name for a very strong feeling. But whether those strong feelings come from love or from hate - 'passion' could mean either. So _you_ must learn how to decide which one to act upon."  
  
"...Mama?"  
  
"You feel things very strongly, Akane-chan. Ever since the day you were born, I knew. Your feelings lead you to act before you think. And I - that is, _we_, your family - won't always be around to help you when you feel these things. So please... promise me to never forget the true meaning of your name."  
  
Bemused, but sensing the weight of expectation, she answered solemnly. "I won't."  
  
Akane felt her mother's breath against her forehead as she bent to kiss her. "My brave, strong girl." 

* * *

She turned and fled the room. 

_And I believe in love  
But what else can I do  
I'm so in love with you_

Akane stood hesitantly outside this room, fighting against the overwhelming urge to enter that suddenly overcame her. She gave in, sliding the door open.  
  
Ranma's room. Or rather, the guest room he shared with Uncle Genma. Akane looked around quickly as she cautiously stepped inside. It was amazing. Even after more than a year living here, the room was almost spartan.   
  
She saw his backpack in the corner, bulging with the majority of his earthly possessions - ready for departure at a moment's notice. And would he do that? Leave at a whim, out of her life some day? Just as quickly and unexpectedly as that day when he had first arrived?  
  
She crossed the room and knelt before the knapsack, placing one unsure hand carefully on a strap. Then she began to open it, a prick of guilt at her conscience, yet not enough to quench it. Rifling through, she noted the efficiency of his packing - extra clothes, camping gear, some medicines, a few scrolls. Nothing personal.  
  
Or so it seemed. Her fingers grazed against a lumpy object in the very bottom of the pack - a bundle of silk. She dragged it out, and held it curiously as the shapeless bundle hung limply in her hands. Should she open it? If she did, it was likely Ranma would know; she'd never be able to tie it back up the same way, and yet...  
  
Curiosity got the better of her. She undid the cord, allowed it to roll open. A knot of long, black hair fell across her lap.   
  
Her hair.  
  
Akane picked it up, amazed. She had thought it had been thrown away, ever since it had been whacked off unexpectedly in that fight so long ago.   
  
It had meant so much to her at one point. Hair grown for the pleasure of another man. Tofu. The man who was her first love; the man who didn't love her in return. Memories of crying as she clung to him, finally understanding all this. Wanting to tell him she how she felt. Wishing it could make a difference. Knowing that it never would.  
  
_He_ had kept it.  
  
Akane carefully laid the hair back in its protective silk, then reached back into the knapsack. She pulled out the first thing she laid her hands on - Ranma's red Chinese silk shirt. His favorite one. She held the fabric between her hands, feeling its fine texture roll across her fingers. Then suddenly shucking off her bath towel, she pulled it over her head and stood up.  
  
Shivering slightly, Akane ran her hands down her front, smoothing out the folds, running across the hem line - the shirt came down to her thighs. She hesitated, then slowly she brought her hands unsteadily back up across her hips, along her waist... caressing her arms just so... as that time she had felt his arms around her.   
  
She closed her eyes.  
  
It felt... warm. It smelled like him. His beating heart. His ragged voice.  
  
_...Wake up so that I can tell you I love you!..._  
  
Red. Her color.  
  
_His_ color.  
  
"Akane."  
  
Her eyes snapped open and her heart began racing. Slowly, she turned her head over her shoulder.  
  
Ranma was standing in the doorway. 

_I know nothing stays the same  
But if you're willing to play the game  
It's coming around again_

Akane nearly fell as she quickly stumbled backward. She could feel the blood rushing to her cheeks as her eyes locked briefly with Ranma's. He was staring at her, his eyes now trailing down the length of her body, now back up again to meet her gaze. Her mouth dropped open, working uselessly as her mind frantically searched for some kind of excuse to explain her current situation. Ranma, brows furrowed, taking a step forward into the room...  
  
And then she was thundering past him, racing down the hall and around the corner, slamming the door to her room shut.  
  
Head bowed, she slumped heavily against her door. Then grimacing, she quickly thumped her head backwards. _Idiot! What was I thinking?_ She felt her stomach clench as she recalled the look on his face.  
  
_What is **he **thinking?  
_  
"Akane."  
  
She looked up, startled. There he was, already standing in her window, watching her with a strange expression on his face.   
  
She was up again in a flash, turning to grab the doorknob and flee the room, but in the next instant he was there, arm holding the door shut, trapping her in. Before she could do anything he had grabbed her by the shoulders, spinning her around to look at him.  
  
She averted her gaze. She didn't want to face him.  
  
_"Akane!"_  
  
Involuntarily, she snapped her head back up at him.  
  
Then she realized it. He wasn't angry with her; he was worried.  
  
It was in his eyes.  
  
Those same eyes that had greeted her when she had finally woken up that time...  
  
"Akane...?"  
  
As she looked at him, Akane felt her lips start to quiver and her eyes sting. Then, as a low heaving sob escaped from her mouth, she burst into tears, falling forward to throw her arms around his neck. Startled, Ranma wrapped his arms around her.  
  
"Geez, Akane... don't cry. I'm not mad or nuthin'."  
  
She only shook harder.  
  
They sat down unsteadily on the bed, she sobbing against Ranma's chest, he holding her shaking form, as the last rays of evening light faded into the twilight.  
  
_Ranma, oh Ranma, there's something I need to say to you..._

* * *

_"Coming Around Again" copyright 1987 Carly Simon/Arista._


End file.
